


What You Want

by Tavadriel



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Baby Sub, Elves, Headcanon, M/M, Maybe Dub-Con, Original Character(s), Spanking, Tag Suggestions Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tavadriel/pseuds/Tavadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calavel's first time as a submissive. My headcanon, let me show you it.</p>
<p>I used "baby sub" and "maybe dub-con" because he had NO IDEA of what he was saying/asking for, even if he did agree.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: all rights reserved to Wizards of the Coast and the various writers of the many, many, many gaming books I've used for setting, culture, ideas, and even names. Calavel, however, is all mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Want

 

            “I was very lucky, actually. One of the armsmasters, while I was learning the sword and bow, figured me out before I did; he had me over a saddle-stand and spanked me until I couldn’t see straight. The scent of leather, and tack, still does something special to me to this day.”

                                    Calavel to Melanna (paraphrased)

 * * *

             His name was Renaitham, and I was in love.

            Or as in love as one gets, at that age. Barely past my centenary, I had my own name, my life’s work set out for me, and all the lovers I could want – except him. It was the first time I’d ever been turned down, outside of being ‘just too young’, and I did not handle it well. I was special, I was beautiful, and I was  _determined_ to make him mine.

            For all my airs, I was very young.

            He was one of the armsmasters, specifically those enjoined with teaching the arts of war. At first, he wasn’t my teacher, but was one of those my teacher would bring in to help demonstrate a particular skill, or help those of us who weren’t learning as fast as the others. I was not progressing as well with the bow as my teacher wanted – and, honestly, not trying very hard, given my name – which was when Ren was asked to help me. While we as a people are very supportive of each person’s rights to do as they will, everyone was expected to be capable of using at least two weapons, sword and bow, in both their own and the town’s defense.

            Ren was taller than me; then again, almost everyone was taller than me. His hair was not black, but very, very dark brown, kept oddly short for our people, barely touching his shoulders, and his skin had the faintest edge of gold to it, the closest we come to what in humans would be suntanned. In contrast, his eyes were a light shade of green-blue, like a painting one of my aunts had of the ocean. And while he wasn’t over muscled or brawny, there was definite strength in his limbs, his muscles, strength and grace both.

            I was as drawn to him as a bee to a flower, and about as subtle.

            I had never wanted anyone so badly before, and a small part of me was scared. That part was overruled by the sheer utter need I felt whenever he touched me. Lessons with him left me so hard I couldn’t even think, stumbling away as he repeatedly, repeatedly, ignored my offers to keep company, so hard I came at the first touch of my own hands. Often I would just have to close my eyes, right in the middle of a lesson, to try to calm breath and body as he rearranged my limbs as he wanted them, the warmth of his body through our clothes somehow more real than anything I’d ever felt.

            He had ruined me for my other lovers, my friends. And, desperate as I was in need, not even then would I use another to sate my desire for Ren – it would be cruel, to pretend a desire I didn’t feel. I had offers, several, but after meeting him I slept alone. My body agreed with me, unwilling to respond to those offers had I even wanted to.

            And when I couldn’t take the torment anymore, clumsily brushing our lips together – clumsy, me, with my experience! – when he tried yet again to focus my attention on the target at the far end of the room, Ren did nothing, not even moving away. He merely stood there, light eyes sharp as twin blades boring into mine. I blushed as I hadn’t done in  _years_.

            “I’m not playing, little ray, so shine your light elsewhere,” he told me, in the same implacable tones as he would deplore my admittedly half-hearted efforts. “You don’t even know what you want.” Before I could find my voice, he had left. Left me there, staring after him in desire and confusion.

            How could he think so? Those around us were not as blind as him – I had been warned that he took few lovers, had it suggested that I look elsewhere. Of course I knew what I wanted – him. I was not a child, and I had thought I was being perfectly obvious.

            Apparently I needed to be more direct.

            At our next lesson, I waited until he stood behind me, once more trying to get me into some better stance. I deliberately moved against him, rubbing my ass into his groin in completely unmistakable invitation. Curving my neck around to reach his – too short to reach his lips, not comfortably – I said quietly, yet distinctively, “I want  _you_.”

            A startled cry escaped my lips as I was turned around and pinned against a nearby wall. Ren bent down, muffling the rest of the sound with the sudden heat of his mouth on mine, holding me tightly as if I were trying to get away. Instead I responded to his kiss eagerly, twining around and into the strength that held me in place, using the little movement I had to show that this was exactly where I wanted to be.

            “So you want me,” he murmured just above my lips, amusement seeping into his voice like spilled wine on cloth. “Or so you think.” Another deep, wonderfully deep kiss, his body somehow both holding me even more firmly in place, yet not giving me anywhere interesting to rub against. I whimpered my frustration into his mouth, my body reacting to his kisses and nearness but unable to do more than stand there.

            “Do you even know what you’re asking?”

            I could feel my own features sharpening away from pleasure into indignation.

            And he laughed, low and rich, so close his breath stirred my lips, still tingling from his touch. “You have no idea.” He pressed even closer to me, close enough I could the telling heat of his sex against my stomach, making my own twitch between  _his_ legs, too perfectly in the middle to feel more than the faintest impression of flesh.

            “Would you give me what  _I_   wanted, hmm?” Ren teased, interspersing his words with light, barely felt brushes of his lips. “Would you?”

            I whimpered again, trying to catch his lips for more kisses. “Yes,” I said, taking advantage of his momentary surprise to catch his mouth. Barely moments passed before he took it back, staring at me with the oddest of expressions. “Yes,” I repeated, straining what little I could to get closer.

            “You would,” he replied, odd tone to match the look on his face I didn’t understand. His limbs tightened around me, and I shuddered. He took my mouth almost roughly, tongue snaking with mine, swallowing the moan I couldn’t help but make.

            I – I  _melted_ against him, as if I were boneless as well as breathless. So hard it hurt, desperate for whatever he would give me. That only made him kiss me even deeper, harder, faint growls spilling into our joined mouths.

            “Anything?” he said; it was less a question and more of a demand.

            A demand I answered, not caring just how eager I sounded. “Anything,” I pleaded, cheeks burning hotly, trying not to think of how I must look, how I must appear to him, to be so affected just by his kisses, his presence. We hadn’t even  _done_ that much yet, and I was trembling.

            Another of those odd looks – it was almost as if he were  _angry_   with me, but for what I couldn’t imagine. He stepped back away from me; I tried to follow, but he held me in place. My pleas were ignored until he was the length of his arms’ distant. “Strip.”

            Never had my clothes been so difficult to remove, laces and ties knotting in my clumsy fingers – fingers which normally obeyed me quite well. I’d been so captivated by him I hadn’t noticed my legs were free, had been free as he’d backed away. And when my cock was freed from its confinement, I moaned – at both the faint coolness in the air, as compared with my clothing, and at his direct stare.

            I’d been watched before, and knew I was beautiful, but this – this was not the same. There was something between us that I couldn’t quite make out; that tiny part of me that had been frightened earlier whispered incoherent warnings. I ignored them, far too aroused to care, out of my depth in a way I hadn’t been in many, many years. But although I couldn’t stop my blushing, I held my head up high, meeting his eyes squarely. I knew what I wanted, and more importantly, knew that he wanted me.

            Ren’s eyes narrowed – and then, quicker than I would have believed possible, he lunged and grabbed me, actually  _picking me up_ and slinging me over his shoulder. Before I could react, he carried me over to, of all things, a saddle-stand, laying me down across the saddle on my belly. There was a desk, thankfully clear, not too far away that it could support me from about mid-chest so that my head wasn’t hanging straight down. He snagged a nearby blanket, balling it up under my head and curling my hands around it as a crude sort of pillow.

            “Renaitham, what –” I started to ask, but he interrupted me.

            “Did you not say ‘anything’?” he said, again with that odd sound, that edge, to his voice.

            “Y-yes,” I answered, still surprised from my sudden transport.

            “Then you have no leave to question me, do you?” He was right, so I was silent. “Keep your hands here, and do not move them.”

            His hands slid down my arms, over my shoulders, down my back. I shivered under his touch, breath catching in the back of my throat – only to be released into a pleading moan when his hands cupped the cheeks of my ass. Why he wanted to take me over a saddle I had no idea, nor did I care. The image of his flesh filling my body at last, after all the times I’d felt it during my lessons, was a very welcome one. I spread my legs open the little I could, given the warm pressure of his own against them, so eager as to be beyond pride.

            I cried out in surprise when the hand that just left my skin returned back as a loud, sharp blow. Surprise, then pain. Ren had  _hit_ me! Another strike was the only answer to my questioning call of his name, again.

            The pain was different from any I had ever felt, although the solidness of a practice blade through armor was close. This was sharper, more immediate, my bared flesh more vulnerable, more sensitive. He concentrated his actions to my ass alone, and after several blows there wasn’t an inch of skin not sore, and still more blows rained down. I heard myself pleading and apologizing, not quite knowing what I had done wrong but convinced it had to be terrible, to be treated so.

            Yet I didn’t ask him to stop. My pleas were for explanation, for understanding, even as part of me realized that he  _had_   tried to warn me in his own way.  _I_ had said ‘anything’, had essentially given my word, and thus had only myself to blame for what I had invited myself into. I could, and did, complain about how much it hurt – oh, gods, did it hurt, fire burning my skin so hot and red I could feel the color itself – but that was all. I had never broken my word and would not do so.

            It felt like hours passed, or that time ceased existing at all. My world had narrowed to sound and sensation – the sharpness of flesh striking flesh and my own voice, small and lost. Tears burned in the corners of my tightly closed eyes, the faint scent of horse and herbs from the blanket dwarfed by the richness of leather and tack oil. Even held in place as I was, my body still shuddered under his hands, curling as much into the smooth, worn saddle as I could; my mind obedient, my body only caring about preventing as much hurt as possible.

            I whimpered when his hands once again cupped my cheeks, skin far too sensitive and hot for gentleness, not after such strength. Had anyone asked me earlier, I never would have believed how much sheer pain could be caused by bare hands alone. Yet despite the pain there was comfort in his touch, not just from the absence of additional pain but soothing, in some small way, a little of the soreness.

            A low chuckle, and the murmur of “eager, hmm?” suddenly brought me awareness of the rest of my body – or, rather, my own trapped cock. My erection had faltered when Ren first began striking me, but somewhere during his actions, my squirming into the leather had brought it back, despite the pain. I flushed bright, bright red – not only was I very aroused, I was still rubbing into the saddle.

            No sooner did I manage to stop the shameful movements then he struck me again. This time the rhythm was slower, interspersing blows with touches – no, to be truthful, caresses – of my sore flesh. Try as I might, I could no longer keep my hips from grinding against the smooth worn leather, my body too hungry in its need for release to care about how I looked. Or rather, I  _cared_ but could not stop.

            My ass burned and my cock throbbed, his blows and his touches and my own pushes starting – starting to, to blend in strange ways throughout my body. I was still pleading, begging actually, but the words changed from pleas for understanding to pleas for touch, for completion. For  _more_.

            I was so hard it hurt. And that pain, and the fire from my skin, and the new sparks from each strike were one and the same, a braid of sensation that held me as surely as my honor had earlier, as surely as roots held the trees in their places. Left behind were name, place, family, and everything else, paring me down to flesh alone. It was both terrifying and liberating, all at once.

            With a low, whimpering moan I came, seed painting the leather to drip down, unheeded, to the floor. His hands had stilled, resting on my sore ass as I shuddered. Thoughts scattered away from my mind like leaves in the wind. All I could do was lie there, trying to find my breath, trying not to think of what had just happened. Trying to bask in the glow of satiation without – without remembering.

            I said nothing as Ren gathered me up, draping me over his shoulder with far more care than he had earlier. He did not carry me far, to a room that I hadn’t known was there. It was mostly bare with a few beds; well, at least one, where he set me down on my belly before lying beside me. No, at least two that I could see, yet no personal effects. A guesting room, then, for visitors, maybe specifically for those who had travelled to help defend our town or to spar with our armsmasters. Normally I wouldn’t have given more thought then ‘bed, good’, but noticing and speculating about my surroundings was preferable to the other direction my errant thoughts wished to follow.

            “You did well,” he said quietly, breaking into the silence that had settled after my orgasm. I looked away, but he took my chin in one hand, turning me to meet his eyes. “Very well,” he murmured, brushing my lips with his.

            The light touch, the tenderness, undid me – without even knowing why, my eyes filled with tears and I started to sob. Ren pulled me into his arms, on top of him. He held me as I cried – no, wailed – deliberately  _not_ so much as touching near my sore flesh.

            Held me until I had no more tears left, still clinging to him, lost. Ren – Ren had held up a mirror but I didn’t understand what it was he had showed me. Didn’t know what he had found in me. I shied away from it as I had from his eyes, not wanting to see. Seeing would make it real.

            He cleared his throat; I more felt it than heard it, my face burrowed into his neck, half-afraid that he would make me look up, but he did not. “I had not meant to go so far,” he said, low and quiet. “Truly. I’d intended to spank you a few times, teach you a lesson, then let you go.” A low chuckle, yet somehow I could tell the amusement was directed towards himself, not me. “You are a terrible temptation, and I highly doubt I’m the first one to tell you so.”

            I made a sound of agreement, not quite ready for words. My first lovers had said that to me, when I was younger. My body had matured early, or rather my awareness of it, and I had used my beauty to convince them that I wasn’t as young as I really was. Especially guests, whom hadn’t grown up with me. I felt even younger now.

            “I know you have questions,” he continued. “Even if you can’t string together two words right now. And I will answer them, to the best of my ability. But not today.” I must have made another sound, of protest, because he then said, “Trust me in this. You need time to think. Despite the fact that you don’t want to.  _Especially_ because you don’t want to.”

            My cheeks flushed. He was right – but how could he know?

            A soft kiss to my reddened skin. “I will share this with you, even though you won’t understand what it means until much later – I will do nothing to you that I have not had done to me. On my honor.”

            I flushed even darker. Did – did that mean that someone had spanked  _him_ over a saddle, spanked  _him_ until he came, flustered  _him_ so much that  _he_ could barely remember his own name, much less anything else? That he’d actually f _orgotten_ his name, and all else, as I had?

            Low, rich laughter. “Oh, yes, little ray. That, and much more. Maybe I will tell you about it someday, hmm? Would you like to hear that, hear about when I was just as young, and just as foolish, as you are?”

            I bristled, even content as I was to be held.  _I_ might be calling myself ten kinds of stupid, but that didn’t mean that I wanted anyone else to do the same.

            “You  _are_ foolish,” he repeated. “Everyone is, when they’re young. Thankfully it is a curable condition. It is better to know oneself a fool, and seek to gain knowledge, than to claim wisdom one does not have.”

            Slightly mollified, I curled closer into his arms. I winced as the movement, little as it was, brought out fresh pain from my sore skin, and I whimpered into his neck. I was not looking forward to moving later, to get back to my room. Nor was I looking forward to leaving him, not while he held me, so safe and warm.

            “Let me ease that for you,” he said, gently disentangling our limbs. “I have something that will help take away the worst of the sting.” He walked over to a dresser, returning to the bed with a jar about the size of his fist. “I keep jars of this all over the salle; you never know when it will be needed.”

            “Easy,” he murmured, running a dry hand down my back. Even with the warning, I still hissed at the cool touch to my reddened flesh, a hiss that ended in a sigh as the cream began to soothe away the pain. It was thick and blessedly cool, as welcome as a swim in the lake on a hot day. His hands were deft, gently rubbing the liquid in, as gently as he had rubbed my skin earlier.

            He wasn’t in any rush, nor was I. With the pain receding, I could enjoy his touch as I hadn’t been able to then – or, rather, I  _had_ , but that small pleasure was swallowed by the stronger sensations of heat and hurt. I spread my legs, inviting more contact. A slippery hand slid between the cheeks of my ass, and I moaned.

            This time, his low laugh was a little breathless. “Easy, now,” he told me, low and soothing. His hands slowed, an obvious prelude to stopping completely.

            But  _I_ didn’t want him to stop, and he was not holding me in place anymore. I arched into his touch, moaning when my movements made his hand slip again. His breath caught, behind me, and I smiled.  _This_ was a dance I knew quite well.

            “Take me,” I murmured – quiet not because of any reluctance, but in keeping with the gentle way he was touching me, the low tones of his own voice. And – and my voice was still somewhat tender, from my begging of earlier, but I didn’t want to think about that now. This – this wasn’t like that.

             Ren’s hands tightened around my ass. I ignored the faint pain – the cream had only taken away the worst of it, not healed it completely – shivering at his strength. I loved it when my lovers were taller than me, were stronger than me, especially the men. Before he could speak, I whimpered, spreading my legs wider. “Please?”

            “Far too tempting,” he whispered. There was a roughness to his voice, an edge that took me a few moments to decipher. He had kissed me, pressed up against me, had even struck me, touched me, made me come – and not found his own release. Hadn’t even  _sought_ it, thinking only of comforting me, of soothing my hurt.

            Which made it a point of pride. I  _never_ left my lovers unsatisfied.

            “Please, let me,” I whispered back. Yes, I wanted him for myself, as well, but I wanted him for  _himself_.

            Deliberately and far too slowly, he traced the line between, pausing with the tip of his finger  _just_ outside of my body. “You want me? Here?”

            I moaned, trying to squirm out of the grip his other hand had on me.

            That hand tightened. “I’ll take you my way, or not at all. Do you understand?”

            Even as aroused as I was becoming, I froze. His way – his way had _hurt_. I didn’t want him spanking me again, but I _did_ want him inside me.

            “No, not like that,” he murmured, relaxing his grip. “I only ask that you do as you’re told. I promised you time to think, and I keep my promises.”

            I nodded.

            “And I have but two things to tell you. One, get on your hands and knees, and stay that way until I tell you otherwise.” I scrambled into position eagerly. “Two, you must tell me the instant something hurts or causes pain.” I nodded again, somewhat confused as to why he thought that necessary; I was no virgin, and he already said he wouldn’t be hitting me. “Enjoying yourself is not required, but highly encouraged.” I joined in the laughter that followed his last words, not doubting it at all.

            His first, slick finger slid inside me easily. I moaned, arching into his touch, and he pressed his other hand into my hip. “I didn’t give you leave to move,” he chided. I whimpered, the meaning of what he had asked sinking in. Whereas before he had held me down with his body, his strength, now he used only his words. I shivered, feeling – feeling so much  _more_ as my limbs trembled with the urge to move.

            Two fingers, then three, as I moaned and shuddered under his touch. I moaned even louder when he stopped, even as I delighted in hearing the sounds of cloth rustling, of liquid over flesh, the low groan he made into his own touch. He took me so very, very slowly, so slow I could feel every inch of his hard cock entering me. I’d never had a lover take me whose sex I hadn’t  _seen_ before – his cock was not very thick, but long, and the tip curved a little to the right.

            Ren paused when he was fully sheathed inside me, the faint tremors in his hands telling me it was as much for his own benefit as mine. I whimpered unhappily as he pulled out, only to give a moaning sigh when his flesh returned. Three – no, four – of those slow, measured thrusts, and then he rested a hand in the small of my back. At this time, as he entered me, he pushed down with that hand, tilting my belly down and my ass up. I knew what he was looking for – wondering why it had taken him so long to start – and my  _own_ breath caught in a low hiss when he did. That slight curve was angled perfectly to not just touch, but scrape along the edge of that sensitive spot with terrible, maddening precision.

            Sore voice or not, I found enough of it to beg with him to take me harder, faster,  _more_. My reddened ass  _did_ hurt, a little, with the low ache that meant bruises later, but I downplayed it to Ren, not wanting him to go even slower – or worse, stop entirely. I squeezed around him, inside me, unable to not laugh myself at his low groan. A laugh which dissolved into moaning as he shuddered – then took me in earnest.

            I was determined to make him come first. He was closer than I was, since I’d already come earlier, and his faster thrusts did cause twinges of increased pain from my still-sensitive skin. But somehow he figured out what I was planning, and nudged my hips that extra bit that took his cock from just touching that spot inside me to actively prodding against it, as my moans grew in volume. Desperately, just as I could feel my own flesh swell, almost to bursting, I squeezed him again, tightening internal muscles around his hard, hard cock. He came with a stuttered shout, filling my ass with hot seed, the feeling of which made  _me_ cry out, spilling my own fluid onto the bed.

            He eased the two of us into lying back down, my limbs pliant in the aftermath of pleasure. The bed wasn’t very big, so in trying to avoid the wetness, we were cuddled up practically against the wall. I couldn’t help but whimper, faintly, as his softened flesh slipped out of my body – I always hated when it ended, wanted to remain joined with my lovers for longer than our bodies would allow. Ren turned me then to face him, and I burrowed into his chest, sighing as his arms surrounded me.

            We stayed like that until time found us once more. I blushed when my stomach growled, hungry for food, not more intimacy, and he laughed. Had I any more passion left in me, it would have risen as he carefully cleaned me off with a warm, wet cloth. He followed me into the main room, watching me with direct appreciation as I dressed, still nude himself. I bit my lip, looking over toward the saddle, not quite knowing what to say.

            Ren kissed me, turning me around toward the door. “I’ll take care of the rest,” he said, one hand in the small of my back as he walked with me; I shivered, remembering what he had used his hand there  _for_.

            One more kiss, deep and lingering. “Your next lesson is in two days.” I nodded, gave him a smile – then a kiss of my own, light but present, so he wouldn’t think I regretted what we’d done – and then left.

            It didn’t occur to me to ask which lesson he meant.

**Author's Note:**

> This is back-story to a character of mine. Some of the world-building may not come across; suggestions for how to improve that are very welcome. A bonus chapter with explanations? Is that even allowed?
> 
> If you're on AarinFantasy, you might have seen this before. (Yes, that's me. Or this is me.)


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